Artist emiko oye told Smithsonian Magazine that as a child she avoided playing with LEGO sets because of the brand’s boy-centric design and advertising. However, her contribution to the Smithsonian’s Craft2Wear event in October 2014 offered reclamation of the small building blocks for women and girls. Using plastic LEGO pieces, oye fashioned bold bracelets and intricate necklaces that rival the high-end geometric baubles seen on runways around the world.

Founded in 1932, LEGO got its name from the Danish phrase “leg godt,” or “play well.” First produced by LEGO in 1949, the plastic, inner-locking bricks allow children of all ages to assemble endless systems of buildings and pathways. Today, LEGO features female characters and a wider range of building sets in its product line to attract young girls. oye says she noticed the ability of LEGO to inspire young minds. “I saw this media that was limitless, pretty much, and always changing and evolving … [and]… everybody has a connection to LEGO in some way … Their eyes light up when they see my work because it touches in them something very personal and that’s how jewelry really is.”

One of the “largest” architectural works in our miniature collection is a grand three-story Victorian house known as Port Townsend. This stately house is the work of husband and wife artists Noel and Pat Thomas. Commissioned by T/m co-founder Barbara Marshall, the house was built with only one request: that it have a greenhouse.

One of the biggest construction challenges—finding curved glass for the greenhouse—was remedied by cutting pickle jars. Another challenge—creating a functional split chimney flue—was a trial-and-error process involving burning incense in the home’s tiny fireplace. While we at the museum aim to keep all of our objects in pristine condition, the Thomases’ design their miniatures to appear realistic, worn, and lived-in. To create this illusion, a full-sized ashtray with a lit cigarette was placed in the parlor to simulate fireplace soot, tiny spiders were set free in the basement and attic to create cobwebs (don’t worry, they’re not there anymore!) and much of the house was coated with their “Famous Thomas Bug Juice,” a graying solution developed from a gunsmith’s formula.

Most of us (in the northern hemisphere, anyway) can start to feel a bit stir-crazy around this time of year. Luckily today, January 29, is National Puzzle Day! Ok, maybe puzzles won’t completely cure the winter blues, but it’s worth a shot! Whether you prefer crossword, logic, jigsaw, linguistic or mathematical puzzles is up to you.

John Spilsbury invented the first jigsaw puzzle (pictured above) in 1766. Originally meant as a teaching tool for geography classes, the jigsaw puzzle caught on. And for good reason too—puzzles teach important motor and problem solving skills, and aid in creative and abstract thinking. By the 19th century, chromolithography made it easy to create an array of colorful designs that were applied or printed directly onto puzzle boards, blocks and boxes. Even in the video game era, puzzles of all kinds continue to delight us. Perhaps the thrill of completion is what keeps this pastime so popular.

While many men fought abroad during World War II, Eloise Kruger’s gumption led her to climb the career ladder from a secretarial position to the head of an all-woman accounting firm. When she began collecting fine-scale miniatures in 1939, she used the same tenacity. In 1997, she left her entire collection of more than 20,000 historically accurate decorative arts miniatures to the College of Architecture at the University of Nebraska- Lincoln, now free for public viewing during the week.

The Kruger Collection includes miniature replicas of just about everything you would find in a household, including a kitchen sink! She meticulously recorded every detail available regarding each of her miniatures, including important commission information and correspondence with Eric Pearson, one of the first professional miniature makers in the United States. A whopping 800 books accompanied the collection when it arrived at the university—talk about attention to detail!

What do John Hancock, Jan Van Eyck, and Johannes Landman have in common? Other than names that start with J, each of these fellows have a signature signature. In true, miniature tradition, however, it would take a trained eye to spot Landman’s tiny signature within the gold-plated brass rosette on T/m’s miniature harpsichord.

Tiny playful carvings of a mermaid and satyr flank the piece’s tiny keys. The mermaid between the posts is actually carved from a single piece. Landman paid special attention to this portion of the harpsichord, carving her head in such a way that it appears to tilt. Her tiny crown was skillfully turned on a small lathe and attached later.

Landman modeled the painting under the lid after one on a full-sized Flemish harpsichord and it is entitled Musical Contest Between Apollo and Marsyas, Judged by King Midas. The painting depicts the Greek goddess of wisdom, Athena, rejecting her flute because of the ugly face she made when playing it. A nearby satyr, Marsyas, makes her jealous by mastering the instrument and a duel between him and Apollo, the god of music, ensues. Things don’t end up well for the loser, Marsyas, who then gets turned into a wine flask—ouch.